Free The Dead Years - ORIGINS - Book Zero (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller) by Jeff Olah Page A

attempting to see what was so concerning. They spoke in low tones and appeared to be confused as to what they were seeing. “I’m leaving,” one of the men said as he dropped two twenty dollar bills onto the counter. “Keep the change.” He was out the door before anyone could answer.
     
    Randy was curious, although wanting to give Trina a moment before getting involved, he paused at his end of the bar and watched the man run into the parking lot. The surrounding businesses appeared to be having a similar problem as customers began piling out of every doorway and into the surrounding parking lots.
     
    Turning to Randy, Trina’s look of sorrow had sunk into horror. “Randy… what is this?”
     
    Making his way across the diner as the others turned from the television and followed the first man out the door, Randy stood speechless, staring at the video feed of three security guards attacking an elderly female shopper. The woman was knocked to the ground from behind as they attacked, not with handheld weapons, but their actual hands and mouths. The grainy video feed cut in and out as the three men appeared to fight one another, ripping shards of flesh and muscle tissue from the woman as she slipped into the grips of death.
     
    Setting aside the thick cast iron pot, George made his way out of the kitchen, pulled off his apron and hung it along the wall with the others. Randy motioned for the cook to join them as he flipped through the many news stations, each covering similar stories from different parts of the country. “What’s going on, where’d everyone go?”
     
    Transfixed by the images that somehow opened a memory he thought was locked away, Randy shook free and returned his attention to Trina and George. “This is bad… REAL bad.”
     
    Moving around the counter as the situation outside escalated; Trina dropped the large glass pitcher and pointed through the windows at the menace heading toward them. “Randy, is that what you meant by real bad?”
     
    Before he had time to turn from the television, the first body launched through the café window and into George.

2
 
    Every news outlet had either gone dark or started running a constant loop of the destruction set about that day. Station management and personnel headed to their perspective homes, or at least made an attempt to. The internet and, in particular, video sharing sites were overrun with more uploads per minute than they were used to seeing in a day. Traffic to these sites spiked within minutes and most crashed their servers before the worst of the videos were viewed. If you were unlucky enough to gain access to the images reproduced for the world to see, you quickly realized our planet had gone to hell. No area was safe and those who ran or hid only prolonged the inevitable.
     
    The only computer this house shared fought with its equally aged internet connection. It struggled to buffer even the shortest of videos and as Savannah searched for information, the two men she was told to call brothers scavenged what supplies they could. Her Uncle Gene and Aunt Joanne were forced to sit quietly at the table while their nephews raided their home.
     
    “Jason, what are doing? Take what you want and leave us alone… please!” Gene said.
     
    “Shut up old man. I’ll let you know when we’re done and then maybe we’ll leave.”
     
    Intent on finding some form of silver lining, Savannah took to searching forums and social media for any information on what the government and specifically the military wanted its citizens to do. “Lance, what does this mean?” Savannah asked, trying to curb the destruction of her aunt’s belongings.
     
    “Whatta you want. We got things to do. Randy’s place is next. Can’t you figure it out on your own?”
     
    “There is a website that has video feeds from a few different military bases and from what I can see they all look empty, like everyone’s gone. You think they’re coming to